Even if you're not stronger
by veto power over clocks
Summary: Running from Moscow to Berlin would take, approximately, 385680 seconds. Prussia runs home.


Prussia invaded my mind and gave me an idea for a fanfic... when I should have been studying, but he's too awesome and I couldn't fight him, so if I get bad grades it's Prussia's fault.

**Warnings:** un-betaed, English is not my first language, and some of the information used in the story was obtained from sources of questionable reliability (corrections and reviews are always welcome).

**Disclaimer:** "Axis Powers: Hetalia" belongs to Himaruya and maybe someone else (I'm too lazy to try to find out).

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><p>The distance between Moscow and Berlin is, approximately, 160700000 centimeters.<p>

That's 2142667 steps.

That's an infinity.

If a person runs at an average speed of 15 Km/hr and they ran the whole day and night without stopping, they'd cover that distance in 4.46 days.

That's 385680 seconds.

That's an eternity.

When the wall fell, everyone at the house felt it. It was as if the house had suddenly become a bit less solid, a bit less stable while still looking the same. Russia also felt a bit sick. Prussia felt like he could finally breathe.

342517 seconds ago, Russia opened the door of his house.

"You can leave."

It's been 342490 seconds since Prussia stepped outside.

Prussia has been running for 342480 seconds, and he won't stop until he gets home.

These last few years, when he looked through the window from Russia's house, he often thought about how far his lands seemed to be, but now that he's trying to get there he realizes that he could never have imagined how far away they really were.

He used to think that a second was too short, that nothing really important could happen in such a short amount of time. Now, as he feels the air burning his lungs as he makes an effort to keep breathing, the wind hitting his face, his legs completely sore and hurting, he thinks every second will kill him and he doesn't know if he should be ecstatic or desperate for surviving each of them.

He should stop, he thinks, and then tries to run a bit faster to keep those thoughts away. If he lets them stay in his mind, he might feel tempted and lower the rhythm, and if they stay in his mind after that, there's the risk that he'll stop. He can't stop, not when he felt Russia's eyes (and Lithuania's, and Estonia's, and Latvia's, and Belarus') on his back when he stepped out of the house, he felt them when he started moving forward, he still feels them and he fears that, if he stops, Russia will be there and will take him back, back to face the sadness and disappointment in the other's faces, back to the window, back to the waiting.

He can't stop, he won't stop unless it kills him, and he knows it won't, so he won't stop. He can do anything, he didn't die when everyone thought he would, he just adapted and kept going, so that's what he has to do now, he must get used to the pain and keep going, go forward, just a few more steps and he'll be home; he didn't die when Prussia, the country, stopped existing, so he, Prussia, the whatever-he-is (anthropomorphic representation of East Germany?, a ghost?, a stubborn jerk who just won't die?; he should ask or something, but it's not like it actually matters), can't die for running some kilometers, even if he feels like he will.

Nations might have feelings like humans, they might think like humans, they might eat and drink and get tired, but in the end, they're still nations and they're not truly alive, so hunger won't kill them, thirst won't kill them, and running a few kilometers won't kill them, damnit, so stop thinking and just keep running.

They say that if it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger. Funny thing about not being able to die: you won't become stronger, you won't become weaker, you'll just be you, so you have to continue and wait until something changes (but nothing ever changes, hell, he knows it better than anyone).

Prussia has been running for 342330 seconds and he won't stop. Maybe he'll think about this tomorrow, about why he's bothering to run when he knows he won't get anything out of it, when he knows that what he's doing doesn't mean anything and it'll never mean anything.

Prussia keeps running. He can rest when he gets home; he won't think when he gets home.


End file.
